


Tyrion's Drinking Game

by Serpentina1



Series: The Fair Maiden [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, F/M, Friendship, Love Confessions, Romance, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9875840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentina1/pseuds/Serpentina1
Summary: It was not the first time Bronn made an attempt to beat the bush. So far he had not been entirely successful, to be true. Now however, Tyrion’s infamous drinking game might bring some progress. Or so he hoped at least.For once – probably tired of his own sour disposition and in spite of anything better to distract him from his brooding – Jaime Lannister had half-heartedly agreed to play along and Bronn was determined not to let him off the hook this time…A Jaime/Brienne story.Set after season 6, when Brienne is back on her way to the North.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations written by G.R.R. Martin. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. The plot of this fiction is all mine, though.
> 
> * ~point of view~*

 

_~Bronn~_

 

“Alright then. I begin!”

It was night time again. One more evening at which he had witnessed the one-handed Warden of the West staring into the heath in sour disposition, as the furious winds swept around the towers and steep cliffs of Casterly Rock. His golden-haired companion’s features were illuminated by the firelight as he continued to stare into the heath, making monotonous, half-hearted conversation at best.

But it was not the first time Bronn witnessed Jaime Lannister sitting uncommunicative like that. He had already been withdrawn and kind of gloomy after the siege at Riverrun. Now, however, following the horrid detection of what had happened to the late King Tommen after the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, matters had become worse.

He had been truly shattered to learn about the most recent happenings and ever since they had left the capital for his storm swept family keep, his companion’s mood had not improved. And who could blame him, really? If anything about the rumours were true, the golden-haired Lioness claiming the Iron Throne had not always been just a _sister_ to him. And if so – the boy-king, passed, had probably not been his _nephew_ , either.

Sadly enough, there was hardly anything that could have been done about the later cause of his distress. Besides that, Bronn highly doubted his companion at arms might be willing to speak about these tricky circumstances at all.

The other matter, however – Well…

It was not the first time Bronn made an attempt to beat the bush after all. So far he had not been entirely successful to be true. Now however, Tyrion’s infamous drinking game might bring some progress. Or so he hoped at least.  

For once – probably tired of his own sour disposition and in spite of anything better to distract him from his brooding – Jaime Lannister had half-heartedly agreed to play along and Bronn was determined not to let him off the hook this time…

 

_~Jaime~_

 

“Alright then…” he agreed, finally. “Maybe you’ll leave me alone if I give it a try.” His assumption was answered by a typical Bronn gaze in response.

“Wouldn’t count on tha’” he declared, raising his cup with a good-natured, slightly brazen smirk as he shifted his position into a more comfortable one. “You’re agonising,” he then stated, without further warning, carefully eying his colloquist’s reaction. “Aren’t you?”

His question was answered by a snort and a scornful, slightly enervated gaze, saying as much as: _‘Now you’re really up to wind me up, aren't you?’_ Aloud he spoke: “That should hardly be any surprise, should it? Is this supposed to be a _game_ now – or are you just up to get me drunk?!”

His question was answered by another typical ‘bronnish’ gaze once more.

“Well… O _f course_ I am! That’s how it’s supposed to _work_ , after all.”

“Sounds like something my brother would like.” Jaime scowled.

“Aye! That’s where I know it from,” Bronn declared with a smug grin, nodding corroboratory.

“Ahh-” Jaimie remarked, rolling his eyes, “I’d say – we absolutely _‘need’_ smaller cups then!” he concluded sarcastically, gesturing to the two goblets of ‘Dornish Red’ on the table between them.

This however was answered by a dry snort from his companion this time. “Might be wise!” Bronn agreed, nodding once again.

Still shaking his head to express his bemusement, Jaime reached for his goblet of ‘Dornish Red’ resting in front of him.

Before he could drink however, Bronn already spoke up: “ _That’s_ _not_ what I’m talking about,” came the unfamiliar cautious and soft explanation.

“I mean… No. You’ve been agonising even _before_ …” at that he trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence unvoiced. “On our way back already… At the Freys’… Ever since that siege at Riverrun, I’d say,” he then defined more precisely.

 

_~Bronn~_

 

With a surprised rise of his golden brows Jaime Lannister lowered his cup to look at him. “What that’s supposed to mean?!” he frowned, definitely uncomfortable if not annoyed now.

“Nah!” Bronn warded off the complaint, shaking his head for emphasise. “ _My_ question, remember?”

“Not?! Just tell me if I’m mistaken then…” he forged, reaching for his own cup for emphasise. His companion in arms stared at him for a long silence before he shook his head, finally.

_~Jaime~_

 

The Dornish Red’s flavour rolled languorous and heady on his tongue.

“All right then, so I _am_ … agonising… as you say,” he acknowledged with a slight feeling of unease. “What else?”

“Always had a thing for blondes, have you?” Bronn posited, straightforward and blunt as ever.

At this Jaime’s hand resetting the cup paused in mid movement. He then cast another glance at his companion in arms, frowning.

“Can’t tell if I like this game…”

With his frown deepening even further he drank however, staring into the flames once more – then refilled his goblet to drink another.

“Hey, it’s not supposed to work like _that!”_ Bronn’s voice cut into his musings, a smug grin crossing his face once again. “Not a cup for your blondes, _each_! I have to _ask_ something else, first!”

 

_~Bronn~_

 

So Jaime Lannister put down his cup, studying him, thoughtfully. “I don’t know, what you’re talking about,” he declared, his voice slightly threatening and his expression far less gloomy than it had been before.

“Anything else?”

Bronn could not help but grin at the uncomfortable way the former Lord Commander shifted in his chair, awaiting – probably dreading – his next question. Well, this certainly was some progress he decided.

“Ye’r sure of tha’?” he mumbled, apparently carelessly.

A snort and a pricing stare from his opponent's emerald eyes was the only response he got, however.

“My turn now,” he declared resolutely, at which Bronn inclined his head gesturing for him to continue.

Jaime Lannister stared at him for another silence, before he spoke: “You have a good reason why you’re doing this, right?” he concluded.

At this Bronn drank, smiling.

“I mean – good intentions!” Jaime specified his assumption, “You’re not trying to get some information out of me?”

“Hee – can’t do!” Bronn complained with a laugh, “You can’t ask several questions at once! Wouldn’t know which one to answer to!”

Another piercing stare from his companion’s emerald eyes was the only response he got once again.  Still smiling Bronn nodded, finally. “I _have_ good intentions, yes,” he agreed, mildly, at which he took a deep drink from his goblet.

 

_~Jaime~_

 

“Good - for me, are they?” Jaime asked somewhat suspiciously.

Laughing his dark haired companion leaned forward, refilling his cup. “Aye,” he chuckled, “I should hope so!”

As a response to the second question Bronn drank, drank deeply once more, emptying the additional goblet without complaint.

“My turn, now,” he then stated and Jaime once more gestured for him to continue.

“It is _not_ your sister.”

The flickering fire was the only noise around as Jaime stared at Bronn for another silence now. “Pretty sure she is! We’re twins, after all,” he finally scoffed, trying to bid some time.

This however only earned him a slightly sympathetic gaze from Bronn. “That’s _not_ what I mean and you _know_ it.”

Jaime just continued to stare.

“No. I mean the one you’ve been _talking_ about,” Bronn probed on.

Jaime’s frown deepened even more at this. “If only matters were that easy,” he finally mumbled. “And you’re drunk,” he added as an afterthought, looking up at his companion with a slightly scornful scowl.

“F’corse I am!”  Bronn agreed in his best, good-natured bluntness, “wouldn’t _dream_ to have this kind of conversation with you otherwise.”

“And you aren’t drunk enough- still - as it seems! Not by far…” he declared with an exasperated sigh. “Nah – that woman… in whose arms you might want to die in. If at all, I might point out… It is not your _sister_! So much is for sure!” he added, reaching for the jug to refill Jaime’s goblet.

“Once, maybe... But not anymore!” he added, nodding to his own assumption. “But I dare say she wasn’t even back than! Not entirely, at least. Am I so much mistaken about that?”

Jaime stared at Bronn for another – a very long silence – this time. “Oh damn! I _hate_ this game already…” he concluded, finally, taking the refilled goblet from his companion’s hand.

“This kind of _talk_! You mean?” Bronn corrected him still smirking.

 

_~Bronn~_

 

Jaime Lannister frowned once more at this, contemplating the cup in his hand so with a scowl so dark, Bronn could not help but snort, at the sight of it all over again. “Me neither, believe me!”

His words were answered by a suspicious rise of golden brows. “Don't you?”

“You said it!” Bronn snorted, nodding once more.

“Then why?“ A vague gesture of a golden hand. “Why all of this, then?!”

“Because it’s necessary,” Bronn growled rather roughly, though not unfriendly.  

“Ahh…” his companion concluded, slightly dumfounded. With another scornful glare at the goblet in his hand he asked: “That’s what you think? Honestly?”

“Exactly,” Bronn confirmed, surprisingly mildly: “Get a move on now – drink!”

He did.

 

_~Jaime~_

 

When he put down his goblet this time, he was met by another consented smile from his dark-haired companion that plainly seemed to say: _‘See!? Good thing to face the truth, isn’t it?’_

With a feeling of calm and relief Jaime nodded in response to the unvoiced question, smiling vaguely, but generally.

In spite of his likewise consenting, honest smile, Bronn’s eyebrows rose at this – mischievously as it seemed. “There’s one more thing, though…”

Surprised, slightly startled, Jaime looked back at him.

“That blade… What’s its name, yet again?” Bronn asked, entirely unexpected.

“Umm, ‘Widows’ Wail,’” Jaime declared, perplexed and even more dumfounded this time.

“Crap!” Bronn proclaimed with a heartfelt, dismissive grunt. “Nah! Can’t stay that way – you said it yourself! ‘No name, suitable for such a blade…’ So come, pick another! Go ahead!”

“Now?!” Jaime asked, thunderstruck.

“Aye – why not now…Come on! Choose. What do you think this precious valyrian sword’s name ought to be?”

 

_~Bronn~_

 

“’Golden Claw?’ Nah! ‘Lion’s Paw?’ Nah! Neither…” he probed on to provoke a response.

His companion’s emerald eyes were glittering in the firelight, contemplating the valyrian blade he had brought along from King’s Landing for another couple of minutes.

“It’s….” he began, clearing his throat. “It is – ‘The Fair Maiden’,” he declared entirely determined, but with a serious scowl of thoughtfulness.

“And before you ask…” he added in a rush, almost hasty counter-attack, “Yes! I’m _aware_ of that legend of Tarth! No need to rub _that_ into my face as well!”

At this Bronn did not press the matter any further, but flashed his companion a surprisingly heartfelt smile with just the hint of amusement, instead. And as he rose from his chair, he pressed Jaime’s shoulder, compassionately.

“Goodnight, my friend,” he murmured, leaving the Lord of Casterly Rock to his own musings.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: ‘Tyrion’s Drinking Game’ – is the first part of a series, called: 'The Fair Maiden'. (Next part will be called: ‘On Raven’s Wings.’)
> 
> Please give me some feedback, if you can. : )
> 
> PS: For those who might wonder about the legend implied. According to the Wiki of Fire and Ice there is a legend on Tarth as such: 
> 
> ‘The Just Maid is a sword from the legend of Ser Galladon of Morne. (…)  
> Ser Galladon of Morne also called the Perfect Knight, was a legendary knight from Tarth. Many nobles and smallfolk from the island claim to be descended from him.  
> (…) His valour was so great the Maiden of the Seven fell in love with him. She gave him an enchanted sword, the Just Maid, to demonstrate her love for him. No sword could check the sword's blows, no shield could stop them.  
> According to the legend, Galladon only unsheathed the sword three times, not once against a mortal man, for the fight would have been unfair.’  
> A general definition of the term: The Fair Maiden on the other hand is: ‘A good, loving woman. Very loyal, who looks out for you when you least expect it.’
> 
> Brienne’s elder brother’s name was Galladon, btw.  
> I deemed all of this quite fitting for our pair.  
> Lots of thanks to SebastiansGleek for beta reading!
> 
> Smiles, Serpentina


End file.
